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“I dunno,” said Granny. “This is a bit like the forest, really. Anyway, people certainly appreciate a witch here.”
“They're very friendly,” Esk conceded. “You know the house down the street, where that fat lady lives with all those young ladies you said were her relatives?”
A very respectable body which in fact represented the major law enforcement agency in the city. The reason for this is as follows: the Guild was given an annual quota which represented a socially acceptable level of thefts, muggings and assassinations, and in return saw to it in very definite and final ways that unofficial crime was not only rapidly stamped out but knifed, garrotted, dismembered and left around the city in an assortment of paper bags as well. This was held to be a cheap and enlightened arrangement, except by those malcontents who were actually mugged or assassinated and refused to see it as their social duty, and it enabled the city's thieves to plan a decent career structure, entrance examinations and codes of conduct similar to those adopted by the city's other professions- which, the gap not being very wide in any case, they rapidly came to resemble.
“Mrs Palm,” said Granny cautiously. “Very respectable lady.”
“People come to visit them all night long. I watched. I'm surprised they get any sleep.”
“Um,” said Granny.
“It must be a trial for the poor woman with all those daughters to feed, too. I think people could be more considerate.”
“Well now,” said Granny, “I'm not sure that -”
She was rescued by the arrival at the gates of the University of a large, brightly painted wagon. Its driver reined in the oxen a few feet from Granny and said: “Excuse me, my good woman, but would you be so kind as to move, please?”
Granny stepped aside, affronted by this display of downright politeness and particularly upset at being thought of as anyone's good woman, and the driver saw Esk.
It was Treatle. He grinned like a worried snake.
“I say. It's the young lady who thinks women should be wizards, isn't it?”
“Yes,” said Esk, ignoring a sharp kick on the ankle from Granny.
“What fun. Come to join us, have you?”
“Yes,” said Esk, and then because something about Treatle's manner seemed to demand it, she added, “sir. Only we can't get in.”
“We?” said Treatle, and then glanced at Granny, “Oh, yes, of course. This would be your aunt?”
“My granny. Only not really my granny, just sort of everyone's granny.”
Granny gave a stiff nod.
“Well, we cannot have this,” said Treatle, in a voice as hearty as a plum pudding. “My word, no. Our first lady wizard left on the doorstep? That would be a disgrace. May I accompany you?”
Granny grasped Esk firmly by the shoulder.
“If it's all the same to you -”she began. But Esk twisted out of her grip and ran towards the cart.
“You can really take me in?” she said, her eyes shining.
“Of course. I am sure the heads of the Orders will be most gratified to meet you. Most astonished and astounded,” he said, and gave a little laugh.
“Eskarina Smith -” said Granny, and then stopped. She looked at Treatle.
“I don't know what is in your mind, Mr Wizard, but I don't like it,” she said. “Esk, you know where we live. Be a fool if you must, but you might at least be your own fool.”
She turned on her heel and strode off across the square.
“What a remarkable woman,” said Treatle, vaguely. “I see you still have your broomstick. Capital.”
He let go of the reins for a moment and made a complicated sign in the air with both hands.
The big doors swung back, revealing a wide courtyard surrounded by lawns. Behind them was a great rambling building, or buildings: it was hard to tell, because it didn't look so much as if it had been designed as that a lot of buttresses, arches, towers, bridges, domes, cupolas and so forth had huddled together for warmth.
“Is that it?” said Esk. “It looks sort of - melted.”
